


don't you know you're just too pretty to cry

by TittyAlways



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 16:10:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12561168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TittyAlways/pseuds/TittyAlways
Summary: “Do you want to talk?” he offered, already knowing how it would be received.Allen huffed a dry, watery laugh. “You gonna fix me, Mikk? You gonna talk to my parents? You know, if you find them, could you tell me where they are? Cause I’d really like to speak to them myself, thanks.”Tyki ran a hand down his face, lifted it as though he wanted to place it on Allen’s back, then let it drop back to his lap with a weighty sigh.





	don't you know you're just too pretty to cry

**Author's Note:**

> sticks m leg out on a scale of one to Continuously Writing Prompt-Driven One-Shots, how hard do you think im procrastinating on finishing up that last chapter of ante up

“What are you doing here?”

The boy’s voice was raw, and passed his surprise off as brusque anger quite well. He kept his face turned away from Tyki though. Cheek pressed to his shoulder, resolutely staring out the window like if he couldn’t see Tyki then Tyki couldn’t see him.

Couldn’t see the broken slump of his shoulders, the pained curve of his back. The way he tucked his arms defensively around his knees. Huddling in on himself, holding himself together because there was no one else to do it for him.

Tyki couldn’t exactly say  _following you_ and not have it come across more creepy than it was. He couldn’t exactly say  _making sure you’re okay_ and not have it come across more demeaning than it was. 

“You’re crying,” he said instead, and it might have been just as bad but he didn’t want Allen to have to hide from him. He didn’t want Allen to pin his aching eyes on the window pane out of fear of being seen. 

“I’m not,” he insisted, ragged voice as telling as the way he dashed the heel of his hand across his eyes.

“You are,” Tyki said, and took a step closer, then another.

“I’m not,” Allen repeated with a desperate, watery laugh, turning his head further away. Pressing his cheek against his knee, burying his nose into his sleeve. One hand curled into the sheets beside him, the other clutching his legs, and his whole body seemed to curl in on itself, shying away from the hand Tyki lifted above his head as though they were magnets of similar charges.

As though they were the same. 

They were, Tyki knew. Which was why he brought his hand to rest gently on Allen’s head, ruffled his fingers through his hair and gave the boy a long moment to decide what to do about it.

“What are you doing?” he said at length, trying to sound grouchy through the exhausted distress that had drained all his energy. He didn’t try to shake Tyki’s hand off, but he didn’t lift his head any.

“Comforting you,” he answered simply, and ruffled the boy’s light hair again. 

He huffed something sharp and shuddering, halfway between a laugh and a sob, and shook his head disparagingly under Tyki’s hand. “Don’t,” was all he said, no energy for more.

“Mind if I have a seat?” Tyki asked, sitting anyway.

“Don’t,” Allen repeated, a sigh, and unfolded his legs. Made as though to stand up, his face averted so all Tyki could see of him was his red-splotched cheek. 

“Hey,” Tyki reprimanded with a frown, firm, and caught Allen’s shoulder. It was too easy to pull the boy back to sitting on the bed, all the fight gone out of him. “Let me comfort you,” he demanded, and that pulled an unwilling laugh from him.

 _“Why?”_  he muttered, scathing, and hooked his heels over the edge of the bedframe, draped his arms over his knees. All folded up on himself. 

Tyki dragged out a sigh. “To help me meet my monthly empathy quota. Gotta keep my reputation of questionable morality, you know,” he mocked, dry, and another laugh fell like a breath past Allen’s lips. 

He dropped his forehead against his knees, face still hidden. “Alright then,” he muttered, probably trying to sound scathing. It just came out strained and sad. “Go ahead.”

Tyki rolled his eyes up to stare a the ceiling and leaned back on a hand, the other hanging loose between his legs. “So,” he said, and wasn’t quite sure where to go from there. “What’s up?”

Allen shook his head against his knees, and Tyki took that to mean  _just about everything, asshole,_ so he decided to try again. 

“What happened?” 

 _“Nothing,”_  the boy bit out, sharp and bitter and broken. “I’m-” He cut himself off, gritted his teeth, curled his arms tighter around himself. “Just. Mark empathy down in your calendar or something,” he muttered, twisted his head this way and that to wipe his cheeks on his knees. “I’m  _fine,”_ he choked, not sounding fine at all, “so you can just. Go.”

“How about,” Tyki said slowly, “I tell you it’s for my own greedy personal reasons. Peace of mind. I’ll be rife with stress until you tell me what’s going on.”

He snorted a dry, hollow laugh against his knees and sniped, “How much peace of mind will it give you, if I tell you I keep thinking how it’d be easier to just throw myself in the river and drown?”

Tyki blinked at him, at his narrow shoulders, the fragile curve of his back. The world really was too heavy for him to hold, wasn’t it. “Not much,” he demurred, “but I’m glad you told me anyway.”

 _“Why?_ ” Allen demanded again, sour and angry, fingers digging like claws into his knees. 

“Well,” Tyki remarked blandly, “imagine if you hadn’t told anyone. That’s a lot to carry by yourself, don’t you think?”

“I’m still carrying it by myself,” he muttered. “Only now you know I’m carrying it.”

Tyki was silent for a long moment. That was probably true. “Do you want to talk?” he offered, already knowing how it would be received.

Allen huffed a dry, watery laugh. “You gonna  _fix_ me, Mikk? You gonna talk to my parents? You know, if you find them, could you tell me where they are? Cause I’d really like to speak to them myself, thanks.”

Tyki ran a hand down his face, lifted it as though he wanted to place it on Allen’s back, then let it drop back to his lap with a weighty sigh. “What do you want, boy?”

Choked, muffled against his knees between weighty breaths, Allen muttered, “I want to  _die._ I just want all this to  _stop.”_

“Okay,” Tyki said carefully, “so. Considering  _dying_ is off the table, what um. What else do you want?”

A deep, shuddering breath. “Please leave.”

“Please answer the question,” Tyki countered, refusing to move. 

“I just-” he snapped and stopped short, his shoulders curling up near his ears. Quiet - almost too quiet for Tyki to catch - he whispered, “I just want everyone to forget me.”

Tyki breathed a sigh, leaned forwards to prop his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. He turned his head, watched the boy sitting beside him. Gentle certainty in his voice when he said, “I could never forget about you, boy.”

“I want,” he choked, sucking in a breath, “to disappear, I want to start over.” He shook his head against his knees, curled his arms up around his head. “I want to be someone else, but not-  _become_ someone else, I want. I wish I was-  _anyone._ Anyone else, so I didn’t have to be.  _This.”_

Tyki kept quiet for a long time, sat back and reached his hand out. Slow, gentle, barely a touch, he brushed his fingers across Allen’s shoulders, lifted his hand and placed it back on top of the boy’s head. Ruffled his hair a little and murmured, “Hey.” 

Allen lifted his head a little, not quite looking at him, and Tyki hooked his finger around a messy lock of his hair and tucked it behind his ear from where it was clinging to his blotch-red tear-stained cheek. 

“Who are you?” Tyki hummed, quiet and gentle. He saw the boy’s shoulders tense, curling up in defensive confusion, and he asked, “What’s got a pretty young man like you crying like this?”

After a moment, Allen laughed. Ducked his head back to his knees and shook his head, weak and amused through his sadness when he tried to reason, “Not like  _that.”_

“You’re right,” Tyki agreed simply, because none of it could ever be that easy. History had a way of catching up to you, even if you had no memory of it. So he put his hand on top of Allen’s head and pulled him gently until he let himself fall against Tyki’s shoulder. Tyki pressed his cheek to the top of Allen’s head, and they sat like that when he murmured, “I could never forget you.”

He breathed, slow and measured, the heart in his chest as much a proof of his life as it was of his humanity.

“I couldn’t make myself want to,” he confessed, lips brushing against the down-soft strands of Allen’s hair.

“Why do you care so much?” he mumbled, knees propped up with his heels hooked into the bedframe, his head against Tyki’s chest.

He shrugged, held Allen there like quiet reassurance, and let the boy cry on him while they sat side-by-side on a hotel bed, just the right balance between uncomfortable and comforting. 

 _Because we’re the same,_ he thought, but didn’t say it.  _Because you make me better,_ he thought, but didn’t say it.  _Because I know I could help you if you’d let me. Because you saved my life. Because I saved yours._

_Because I love you, I love you, I’d love you if only you’d let me._

“I guess,” he murmured, closing his eyes and letting himself love how close they were, if just for a moment, “I just do.”


End file.
